Bukhara

On Thursday morning (December 19, 2019), we have breakfast in the small kitchen of the Boriga Baraka Hostel in Samarkand. Then we put our backpacks in Schrotti's trunk and take a ride with the Dicken. Our path leads us to a hill where, in ancient times, the predecessor settlement of Samarkand, Afrasyab, was formed. There is not much to see there, the invading Mongols apparently did a thorough job 800 years ago. Instead, we stroll around the Hazrati Hizr Mosque and continue to the Jewish cemetery of Samarkand. Meanwhile, Rango has to wait for us at the foot of the hill as the whole area is closed to dogs. After a round through the cemetery, we return to the hostel with Rango. Starting Schrotti gives us quite some trouble. Marcus took on the task of switching from gas to gasoline operation today, and in the cold temperatures, our Russian car needs some time to warm up. The man has turned the fuel tap on excellently, but unfortunately forgot to switch the gas supply switch. So Schrotti gets an oversupply of fuel and keeps stalling. We have already had too many problems with this car, so sometimes the obvious only becomes clear quite late. When I finally figure out the problem, we have almost drained both batteries and can only start the car with the last turn the starter still manages to give. But better late than never! So we leave Samarkand on gasoline and frequently experience supposed ignition failures. When the car finally seems warm enough, we switch to gas operation. However, Schrotti sometimes stalls at idle during the journey. In Mirbozor, we stop for a small coffee break and finally reach Bukhara in the early evening. Here, once again, I switch back to gasoline as Schrotti is not reliable enough for city traffic on gas. We drive to the Graf Hostel, located directly in the historic city center, and park the car. I plan to take a look at the carburetor and its jets the next day. To prevent the device from being filled with fuel, I switch back to gas. We check in at the hostel and receive the offer to park Schrotti somewhere else, which seems slightly cheaper to us. When starting the car, Marcus switches the gas valve back on. He probably wanted to avoid the same problems as in the morning. But since Schrotti now receives no fuel at all, the engine naturally switches off. When I see the problem, I would have loved to bite the steering wheel, because by now, the battery is empty again. We postpone parking for now. In the hostel, we warm up some pea soup, and Marcus takes another walk with Rango in the old town. In the meantime, I upload some pictures and fool around. Around midnight, we finally go to bed.

Friday starts with an excellent breakfast at the Graf Hostel. Then I set out to explore the old town of Bukhara with Rango. The picture is characterized by many small alleys along small houses, caravanserais, madrasas, mausoleums, and mosques. The facade plaster consists mostly of a brown clay-straw mixture and is supplemented here and there by clay bricks and fired tiles that shimmer in blue, white, or turquoise shades in the sun. Even new buildings blend in well with the historic cityscape. There are small traders, galleries, and plenty of guesthouses everywhere. Yet the locals are friendly and very rarely pushy. The many Tourist Police people also let Rango and me do as we please, they only ask interested questions, and the Dicken is allowed to walk around without a muzzle. All in all, I quite like it here. In the early afternoon, we return to Schrotti. For fun, I try to start our Russian car again. The starter doesn't need a full revolution and the car starts. This car is driving me crazy. Then I clean the float housing and the carburetor jets and try to fix our daytime running light (it only works on the right side now). After reassembling our Moskvich to the best of my knowledge and belief, I get some cookies and treat myself to a cup of hot tea at the hostel. I also keep our two accumulators warm. Then Marcus joins me at the Graf Hostel. We fool around for a bit and then stroll around the city during dusk. Among other things, we treat ourselves to a ride on a Ferris wheel while the evening sky over the oasis presents itself in various shades of red. After a short workout and a shower, we have various salads that Marcus brought from the bazaar for dinner. Then we want to dive into the nightlife of Bukhara, but end up in the old town in a shisha bar with tea, pralines, a hookah, and a few rounds of Offiziersskat. Also okay!